


He Has Us

by PrinceOfHell00



Series: Two Winchesters and a Baby [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Baby!Jack, Caring Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Comforting Dean Winchester, Comforting Sam Winchester, Coughing, Cute Dean Winchester, Cute Jack Kline, Daddy!Sam, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Little!Jack, M/M, Medication, Non-Sexual Age Play, Papa!Dean, Sick Jack Kline, Sickfic, Stuffed Toys, bottle feeding, bottles, bronchitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceOfHell00/pseuds/PrinceOfHell00
Summary: Poor baby Jack catches a case of bronchitis, but luckily he has his daddy and papa to help comfort and care for him during his sickly time.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Series: Two Winchesters and a Baby [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268963
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	He Has Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reading_fanfics_at_200am_hbu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reading_fanfics_at_200am_hbu/gifts).



> This fic was requested by reading_fanfics_at_200am_hbu! I really hope you like it, and I'm sorry it's a little late lol. Hopefully it was worth the wait tho! <3<3
> 
> Jack's headspace: 7mo

"The baby's bottle ready?"

"Almost. Just need to pour and stir in the meds," Sam replied, picking the spoon of crushed antibiotics up from the counter. He carefully poured the white powder into the milk filled bottle, then grabbed a thinner spoon to properly mix it in.

"Is he awake?" Sam asked, screwing on the nipple of the bottle, and giving it a few extra shakes afterward for good measure.

"Nah, he's still out cold."

"I'm not surprised, poor baby was up most of the night because of that nasty cough."

About four days ago, Jack woke up with a sore throat and a fever over one-hundred degrees. Later that same day, the boy also developed a deep, hacking cough that left him breathless and wheezing. And when Jack's fever didn't seem much better the next day, both brothers came to the decision to take him to the Doctor that afternoon. It hadn't taken long for the Doctor to come to the conclusion that Jack was suffering from bronchitis. She prescribed him some antibiotics, as well as an inhaler to use when his breathing grew labored and short, and told them to bring Jack back in another two weeks for a revaluation. The Doctor also warned the three Winchesters that Jack's recovery wasn't going to be an easy one, that he would need to get lots of rest and not do anything to exert himself over the next couple of weeks, and that he would especially need to keep up with the antibiotics as instructed.

Since Jack had still been in his big headspace during the first two days of his illness, after they picked up his prescriptions at the Pharmacy late that afternoon, Jack easily took his pills that night after dinner (and two puffs of his inhaler before going to bed). But when he awoke the next morning, and his congestion and cough worsened throughout the morning–to the point of him gagging and spitting up greenish phlegm whenever he got a severe fit–the boy gradually began aging down as the hours went by, until he was finally reduced to a weepy, sick little boy. Well, actually, more like a sick and weepy infant.

It hadn't happened in awhile, but every now and then, Jack would regress from anywhere between two months to eight months on the infant scale. Sam actually created a chart with information about each month, since Jack (like a biological baby) went completely non-verbal during his time in those headspaces', his only way of communicating being by crying and making wordless sounds.

This unfortunately happened to be one of those times, where he regressed to one of his youngest headspaces' (from the chart, Sam estimated the little Nephilim was currently about seven months). Don't get them wrong, the brothers loved and thoroughly enjoyed taking care of Jack when he regressed that young. The little Nephilim became so much more dependent on them for all the things a biological baby would need, and as his caregivers/parents, it gave them a certain sense of purpose they'd (for the longest time in the beginning) only read about online from other caregivers and parents experiences: The fulfilling experience that was taking care of someone so young, and who solely depended on your love and care every hour of the day. But it was that dependence that came with a big challenge this time around; getting Jack to actually continue taking the medication that would get him well.

The baby was just too little at the moment to comprehend the importance of taking the pills. All he currently understood was that he felt sick and miserable, and that sleeping or crying were the only ways to help with that (crying being helpful in the way of either Sam or Dean holding him in their arms, whispering sweet words and singing lullabies to him until he fell back to sleep). The easiest (and only) way they could get Jack to take his medication was by mixing the pills into warm milk, heavily coated in honey and vanilla to mask the bitter taste as much as possible. Though, just because it was the easiest option, didn't mean the brothers still didn't have a difficult time getting the little Nephilim to drink the whole bottle without any trouble.

Sam squeezed a small droplet of milk onto his wrist. He gave a nod to himself, satisfied with the liquid's temperature. "Alright, let's go give our baby his medicine."

When the brothers stepped into their son's nursery, the younger made a noise between a coo and an 'aw' when his eyes landed on the sleeping form of the baby in his crib. The little Nephilim's thumb hung halfway out of his open mouth (they refused to give him a pacifier while his breathing was being compromised by congestion and the illness itself, so they allowed the little one his thumb, for now), hair wild and sticking up in all directions, with one starry, navy blue clad leg sticking out of the blankets. It was simultaneously an adorable and heartbreaking sight to see.

"Go ahead an' take a seat, I'll wake the baby and bring him to you."

Sam nodded and gave the older man a smile, before going over to the white rocking chair and taking his seat.

It took a minute, but soon Jack started making little whining noises as he began to stir back into consciousness. Jack opened his eyes, gaze turning upward to stare at the older Winchester's face in a sleepy daze, before his expression morphed into a look of pure, precious annoyance that only a baby could produce.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Papa's really sorry he had to wake you, but it's time for your bottle." Dean smiled fondly at the little Nephilim's expression, gently gathering him up into his arms.

When Dean turned around from the crib, Sam's lips spread into a warm grin at the sight of Jack's grumpy, pouty face. He set the milk down on the floor beside the rocker, opening his arms to take the baby from Dean.

The older Winchester deposited the little Nephilim into the younger man's arms. Sam wrapped his right arm under Jack's neck, resting his head in the crook of his elbow, while his left arranged the baby's body on his lap until he was in a secure position, then brought that same hand up to brush Jack's messy bangs out of his eyes. "Hey, baby. Did you have a good nap?"

Jack only yawned, admitting a couple congested sounding coughs as he nuzzled his face against Sam.

"My poor baby. I know you wanna sleep more, sweetheart, and you can just as soon as you drink your milk," Sam said softly, reaching down and grabbing hold of the warm bottle.

Jack peaked up at the bottle in Sam's hand, seeming somewhat interested. Until he wasn't.

The little Nephilim simply shut his eyes and buried his face back into Sam's warmth, breathing out a wheezy sigh.

"Come on, sweetheart, daddy made it with lots of yummy vanilla and honey." Sam gently pulled Jack's face back, and squeezed another small droplet of milk out, this time onto Jack's lips.

That seemed to do the trick. Jack licked his lips, eyes widening slightly at the taste, before fully latching onto the nipple and vigorously sucking down the medicated milk.

"Whoa, easy there, baby." Sam chuckled, lowering the bottle just slightly so the little one wouldn't choke. "That's it, sweetheart, drink it all up."

Like the last few feedings went, Jack was calm and compliant while he suckled for the first five minutes, but when the milk was drained only halfway, that's when Jack would always begin to fuss and try to pull away. Sam and Dean figured the reason the little one refused the milk after only a short amount of time, was because he would most likely begin to catch hints of the bitter aftertaste caused by the medicine. Sam did his best to put as much of the honey and vanilla into the milk as he could without making it overly sweet, but there was only so much those flavors could do to help hide the chalky taste pills naturally produced when crushed up.

"I bet it's starting to taste pretty yucky now, huh, baby? Yeah, daddy knows. But you're almost done, honey, just a bit more left," Sam softly reassured the squirming little one in his arms, keeping a firm grip on the bottle so the nipple wouldn't break free from the little Nephilim's mouth. He felt a little guilty and cruel for having to do that, but it was necessary. Jack needed to take his medication on time everyday if he was expected to be fully recovered in the next two weeks.

"Hey, Jack, look who I have here!" Dean called in an overly excited tone, smiling wide as he stood by the crib, holding up the little Nephilim's stuffed hedgehog in his hand.

Jack stilled his movements, the low whines coming from him before growing quieter and quieter, until he grew silent all together. He slightly turned his head, and looked in Dean's direction.

"What's that, Spikey? You think Jack's being a brave boy for drinking his medicine? Yeah, I think so, too."

"You know, Spikey, I think once Jack's all better, we should all go on a trip to the zoo to celebrate. What do you think?" The hedgehog bobbed its head up and down. "I knew you'd agree! What animal are you most excited to see when we go?"

The older Winchester brought the hedgehog up to his ear for a few seconds.

"Sorry, Spikey, I don't think they have any hedgehogs at the zoo. But there's a whole bunch of other really cool animals to see there. Is there another animal that you'd be excited to see?"

He brought the plush up to his ear again.

"Yup, they definitely have lions there! I'm excited to see those, too."

Sam was grinning broadly, eyes sparkling with love and amusement as he watched his brother continue talking animatedly with the stuffed toy. This was how they'd been getting the little Nephilim to finish the remainder of his bottles', by Dean keeping him distracted with either a story, or by having a conversation with one of the baby's stuffed animals. It never failed to warm Sam's heart to see the man he loved do this for their child.

As always, the distraction worked. Even though Jack most likely couldn't understand what Dean was saying, the enthusiastic and uplifting tone Dean kept throughout the one-sided conversation kept Jack completely engrossed, allowing him to absently finish the rest of the medicated bottle without anymore fuss.

"That's our good boy. You did so well drinking up all your medicine," Sam praised, removing the now empty bottle from the little Nephilim's mouth and setting it back on the floor. "Okay, sweetheart, now you can go back to sleep like I promised." The younger Winchester stood up from the rocking chair with the little Nephilim still cradled in his arms, and walked over to the crib and gently settled him inside, pulling the blankets back over him. "Daddy and papa will be back when it's dinner time," he whispered, brushing the little one's hair away one last time.

"Get some rest, little man," Dean murmured, placing the stuffed hedgehog inside the crib next to the little bear dressed in plaid. He pressed a kiss to the already half-asleep little one's forehead, before securing the bars back in place.

Just as the two men were about to walk through the door, they stopped in their tracks when deep, harsh coughs resounded from behind them. They turned around, and when they saw how red their baby's face was quickly becoming, they rushed back to his side.

This time it was Sam who pulled down the bars and took a seat next to the little Nephilim, quickly beginning to rub firm, gentle circles into his back and murmur words of comfort and reassurance, while Dean snatched the green wastebasket up and crouched down in front of Jack with the item outstretched in his hands.

"You're gonna be okay, honey, it's gonna pass. Just focus on my voice, you're gonna be fine." Sam kept up the rubbing, using his free hand to carefully guide Jack's head a little closer to the wastebasket.

One more long, drawn out cough that ended in a gag, and the little Nephilim was heaving a large amount of greenish, yellow phlegm into the wastebasket.

"There you go, sweetheart, get all that nasty gunk out," Sam gently encouraged.

Jack let out a soft sob when it was over. Tears and sweat poured down his face, and his body shook from exertion and leftover adrenaline. Neither brother liked how prominent the baby's wheezing became after his coughing fit, nor how shallow his breathing looked now, either. It seemed Jack would also be needing to take his inhaler, in just a bit. That especially wasn't an easy feat either, but it was that or a trip to the ER in the very near future (which the two older Winchesters would never allow to happen, if they could help it).

"You're okay, little man, you're okay."

"It's over now, baby, you're okay. Daddy and papa are here, it's okay."

Sam and Dean were quick to reassure and calm the little Nephilim. The last thing they wanted was for the poor baby to send himself into another brutal coughing fit by crying.

"Oh, our poor baby. Here, sweetheart, let daddy massage your chest a little." Sam turned the little one onto his back again, and slowly and very gently started messaging his chest. Before Jack regressed, he complained about his chest feeling like it was on fire after a severe fit, so Sam took it upon himself to give the little Nephilim's chest a small message every time afterward to try and ease his discomfort. "God, I really hate seeing him this way. He must be hurting so much. I wish there was something more we could do to help him recover faster." Sam sighed deeply.

"I know how ya' feel, Sammy. If I could take his sickness away and be the one to suffer it instead, I would do it in a heartbeat. But, the best we can do for him is continue making sure he takes his meds on time, and just continue being there for him. He'll be okay, he has to be," Dean said, his right hand running through the little Nephilim's damp hair.

Sam nodded his agreement, eyes never leaving their baby. The little Nephilim's eyes were shut once more, his cheeks looking less flushed by the second, and his breathing (though, still shallow) was evening out as the exhausted little one began making his way toward dreamland. It really wasn't easy seeing their baby suffer like this, and the maddening worry that would take hold when he had his fits didn't make things any better, but Dean was right. As long as they continued doing what the Doctor said, along with being there both physically and emotionally for him, Jack would be okay and get well in due time.

Sam smiled softly at the sleeping little Nephilim, still continuing his gentle ministrations on his chest. "Yeah. As long as he has us, he'll be okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment *cough*theygivemelifeandmotivation*cough* and/or kudos if you enjoyed, and may you have a great day or night! ^_^


End file.
